


Le Chevalier

by Experi



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Other, what is this; 2012??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experi/pseuds/Experi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before this land’s disease had spread, insidious enough to appear everywhere at once, there was no need for Purifier nor Monster to stop the sickness. Before the Purifier arrived, there was the Knight.<br/>After the Purifier arrives, there remains the Knight. He holds no delusions of grandeur, he simply wishes to involve himself in this very interesting story and see what he can make of his role in it.</p><p> </p><p>A run of the mill game retelling focusing on Zacharie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

ZONE ONE

 

_Rise O days from your fathomless deeps, till you loftier, fiercer sweep,_   
_Long for my soul hungering gymnastic I devour'd what the earth gave me._

                                                        -Walt Whitman, Drum-Taps

 

The place-- somewhere caught between a city and a countryside-- is calm enough. A lone visitor stands somewhere outside of the first Zone, a cat winding through fields of cow-shortened grass to come see him. The cat belongs to this place, the man does not. Not even he himself knows exactly where he is from, just that this is not it. He was brought here to fill a function, and to bide his time. Like some sort of immune system, lymphocytes waiting until infection became unstoppable and allowed the doomed cell to lyse. He is a precursor to apoptosis.

He thinks it amusing, and the thought causes a small chuckle to bubble out from under a mask pushed up over one eye. The man thinks a great many things are amusing. From the grass at his feet, a quiet miau issues forth and a white cat hops up the man’s leg and climbs to his shoulder. It’s a quick jaunt, but the daggersharp claws of the cat do not help make it any more enjoyable. The man does not mind, his smile stays on as he turns his head to acknowledge the feline butting his chin for attention.

“My dear Pablo, you act as if I have ignored you for weeks.” The man snorts.

“The elsen are less interesting conversational partners, Zacharie.” The white cat nestles itself on Zacharie’s shoulders, tail coiled around his neck and grinning at the greenish buildings in the distance. “But still, their company provides the occasional tidbit. Spectres are starting to rise, did you know?”

Zacharie nods, beginning to walk towards the buildings. “I heard something along those lines. Cannot bode well for the elsen, but perhaps I will be able to become a merchant again. Sell them something to defend themselves with instead of crying for someone who cannot save them.”

“Cannot or will not?” The cat’s yellow eyes and sharp grin catch Zacharie’s face. He pulls the mask back down and fails to answer.

“Regardless, this is your duty now, Knight. You are the slayer of the Toad King and the elsen nominate you to to fight for them. Foolish as it may be.” Pablo rolls over to his side, laughing and barely avoiding falling off of Zacharie. “Soon a proper King will arrive and you will be lucky if he does not kill you.”

“No one kills the merchant, Pablo, the game would be broken without.” Zacharie taps the temple of his mask knowingly. Sword and Add-Ons at his side or not, he prefers the title of salesman.

The two walk on, entering the stables from the pasture.

An elsen shrieks when it sees him, but elsen often shriek when they see anything they were not warned in triplicate about at least eight days in advance, and sometimes even then. Both Zacharie and Pablo ignore its fright. The quirks of the Zone’s denizens are little matter for concern. They walk on until they reach one of the processing facilities, where elsen work to remove stone from the guts of their cattle. These beings pay no attention to the visitors. It is more important to work, especially if the foreman Dedan comes along. Zacharie asks the elsen guarding the door if he can enter and for once a visitor is allowed in-  although the trespass is only permitted because of the weight the knight carries.

“Hhh. It is, well. It’s. Just that. All these, uhm, ghosts. Keep appearing, and it’s really distracting from our work. We can’t, hh- work if everyone’s too afraid of being eaten, you know.”

Zacharie nods with an amused snort. “It will cost you if I am to kill anything.”

The elsen nods, tugging at its collar nervously. “We can pay. Dedan said it was alright.”

Zacharie hums musingly. “Good. I’ll help you, then.” He is fully aware that it’s not exactly expected to charge for protection, but it’s Zacharie. Payment must be given for services. He has already emptied the pockets of a good many elsen.

The elsen leads the knight and cat into the building. A few spectres are indeed inside, the building is otherwise empty. Evacuated. The ghosts start off appearing more as a general misma, the way they have been since the beginning. As Zacharie enters, the elsen scoots back behind him, and after a few seconds the door shuts sharply. The noise, instead of the arrival of living beings, attracts the attention of the spectres. There is a shudder in the air, and then the ghosts take shape. Instead of vaguely outlined, ovular shapes with loosely defined eyes and mouth, they now are more similar to an oblong teardrop. Sharp outlines, details, and of varying size and feature.

Zacharie simply chuckles. Pablo leaps off his shoulder, padding over the the corner of the room and sitting. He will watch. The spectres gather, approaching Zacharie. A sword is drawn from its sheath and add-ons sprout in metallic outlines of wings from Zacharie’s back. Battle time.

Oftentimes, spectres can be diffused with a single slash, his add-ons limited to the occasional defensive use. Zacharie does not enjoy being so much as bruised. These are different ghosts defensively, too, though. Their attacks are stronger than what little he’s had to deal with before, and it takes a slight amount of effort more than none to dispatch them. The discovery does not exactly please him. After about ten minutes, the stable is empty and he can sheathe his sword, the strange black blood of ghosts evaporating upwards and disappearing as he does so.

“What do you think, Pablo?”

The cat has been watching the entire time, and its ever-present grin droops somewhat. “I think it is time for the king to come.”

“As much as I joke about it, I do fear for this unfortunate world.”

“You say it yourself, that is not your duty. We cannot delay purification forever.”

Zacharie sighs, add-ons evaporating. “But the purification is so… boring.” White and death. The elimination of his friends. He quite likes the zone bosses, after all, and many of the elsen. But those are plot points of the future he does not share out of politeness. He does not know what Pablo is aware of, and would not wish to ruin anything. He feels the same respect is given to him from the cat, and they can continue on like that.

“We can only use you to delay his arrival for so long.”

Zacharie hums thoughtfully and lets it drop. Can he not just sell his wares to the elsen, kill what ghosts he happens upon, and continue on ad infinitum? It would be much easier for him.

No, of course not. That would be a horrible game. Zacharie is not one to share a boring game.

He walks off, cat at his side, collects payment from the elsen in the form of a stack of bills, and leaves quietly.


	2. Ch.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be posted in two sections but the first was much to short to be its own chapter. thusly, here we are.

ZONE ZERO

 

Zone zero is where Zacharie lives, a home with himself, Pablo, Valerie, and (oftentimes) Sucre.

Neither Sucre nor Valerie are here now. Zacharie checks Sucre’s basement, just to be sure. Nothing, and he does not know where she’s gone. Perhaps to visit Enoch? For the time being she has her freedom to go where she wishes. Zacharie knows she will be at risk, but that’s later. He will worry about her safety later. Valerie is likely in Bismark. He goes there often. The poor, doomed cat. Zacharie will miss him. Pablo does not know.

The cat hops to sit in the center of the main room’s floor.

“The ghosts will continue to reproduce.”

“Somehow I don’t think you wish me to bother, my friend.” Zacharie kneels next to the cat, scratching under his chin.

“No,” the cat says between a rumbling purr, “Let them be. This is how it goes. In the meantime, we will wait. You may go back to being a merchant, and I will stay here to teach the purifier the rules.”

Zachaire nods. He stays there as humming block puzzles phase into existence on this floor and the next. The stage is set, the script written in their pixelated heads. All that’s needed are the actors.

After a few days, Zacharie leaves. The elsen still call him, ask him to solve their problems.

Instead, he sells them items of slight protection. He can afford the loss of an Expiration or two. He can afford a lot of things.

They would object to the change but their focus is not who solves problems, it is simply finding ways to remain in stasis. They do their best. After many months, the king comes.

There is no announcement or fanfare noting the Purifier’s arrival. One day, Zacharie knows he is not there, and the next he looks up to the sky and thinks to himself

‘Ah. So he has arrived.’

and resumes going about his business.

He will go to the mines when he decides it is time. Or, more accurately, when the nagging feeling in the back of his head that informs him of the scripted locations to be tells him he must go the the mines as quickly as possible. Zacharie doesn’t like the mines much. It’s quite stifling, and the lack of fresh air annoys him. The things he must go through for the sake of the script, he notes with some amusement. As if the ending won’t be infinitely worse than standing about in the mines for a number of hours.

Theoretically, he could just not go, but that would break everything and is quite against the rules. His conscience wouldn’t allow it, either.

So, at the preordained time (not so much a time on the clock as a time on the checklist of things the Puppeteer has completed), Zacharie skips off to the mines, stepping through a hole he created in the Nothingness to stand at the requested location, hands folded politely in front of him and rocking on his feet a bit in excitement and to while away the minutes until the King arrives.

 

* * *

 

ZONE ONE

 

His name is the Batter.

Zacharie may have known this about him, but did not care. Or, he did not care until he met the man. It is easier to find interest in an absolute instead of an abstraction.

The Batter is tall, much taller than the knight-now-merchant, and they seem to be foils in appearance. Batter has white-blond hair, red eyes, and while he too is muscular it is not like Zacharie’s stocky bulk, it’s weighted to his shoulders and he appears much thinner than the merchant.

It amuses Zacharie, his replacement’s very notable departure from himself.

He introduces himself with his usual intentionally-odd comments, just to see what the man will do.

The Batter protests his prices somewhat and acts just curious enough to make the emotion discernible. Zacharie’s not sure if it’s inquiry from the Puppeteer or the Puppet, or some mix of both.

They talk.

Their chatter (or: Zacharie’s chatter and Batter’s short replies) is very superficial. No topics of great depth are breached, though Zacharie finds it interesting to note that the motivation for purity this game is religion. Not a cure, but a God. Behind the mask, fangs poke over his lips in an intrigued grin. Zacharie has not been a part of many files at all yet, this is his first. But he knows what is the standard, knows what the Programmer has put into his head as usual stock information. The Batter usually does not cite Providence or any sort of Manifest Destiny leading him across the Zones to paint them in his own colour. Zacharie appreciates it. Now he is certain that if he does end up leaving this file to start anew, he can at least do so expecting some sort of variation.

Batter, for his part, does not seem to understand why Zacharie seems interested in him, or what the merchant is on about in the slightest. He just wants some restoration items.

Zacharie laughs, makes the sale, and sends Batter on his way. It is not long afterward that the Puppeteer chooses to close the game, be it leaving the file or actually closing it, Zacharie cannot tell. She will be back, in all likelihood, whenever she finishes having a life outside of video games. Zacharie takes it as his cue to having a life inside of video games. He is still a knight, implying a modicum of independence, and it would be frightfully boring to only exist solely when the Puppeteer is watching and requires items or information.

Zacharie leaves his post and decides to go hunt down wherever this enigmatic figure of the Batter has decided to lay in wait for the game’s next activation. He finds the protagonist sitting in one of the dead-end tunnels, not having been allowed to leave the mines just yet. His player would apparently like to double-check some of the tunnels.

For all appearances, Batter is asleep. Zacharie’s not entirely positive he’s as unconscious as he looks, but that does not stop the merchant from kneeling far too close to the object of interest and inspecting. He’s hardly been there for ten seconds before Batter’s primary set of eyes snaps open. Red meets the gold just barely visible behind mask’s mesh.

Zacharie laughs at the exact time Batter punches him in clear surprise.

The punch doesn’t do anything but make Zacharie laugh even harder and fall flat on his ass. He’s not hurt, his levels are too high and Batter’s too low for a punch to the mask to do anything. It’s strange, such an unusual reaction for someone to respond to surprise with violence.

Batter politely waits for Zacharie to collect himself and sit up properly.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ah, mon ami, I simply wanted to take the reprieve of our game’s pause to see what kind of protagonist I have been given! When the game is in session is my only chance to interest myself with the Puppeteer, so logically if I wish to see what you have to offer as well I must do it during a pause.” Zacharie explains himself while brushing dust from his hands. It won’t do much. The soot will come back.

Batter expresses his lack of understanding with what Zacharie said by baring his upper teeth in what could be considered disgust. “Do you really think the things you say make sense?”

“I make as much sense as you do, my friend.”

Batter responds poorly to this, clicking his tongue in irritation and pointedly looking away from Zacharie. Zacharie is not blessed with an understand of social graces, nor does he care about them, so he carries right on with his inspection of the Batter. Until words once more distract him.

“Why do you wear the mask?”

“It is my character design. The same reason you wear the uniform.”

“I’m a batter. This is how batters dress. Masks are not how merchants dress.”

Zacharie is forced to see the logic in that. “I was right when I deemed you would be an interesting one. Masks are how this merchant dresses. I’ve earned it, it is a symbol of achievement.” This mask refers more to his accomplishments as the Knight, the face of a toad became his to wear after murdering the Toad King. Technically, the only thing it has to do with being a merchant is that Zacharie is one and is too fond of shielding his face to throw the mask away.

“What’s your face look like? I can tell you’re not an elsen.”

Zacharie is very much not an elsen. His skin is a dark tan, his stocky body type is much different from the elsen, even his confident tone of voice is distinctly not elsen. “I am a human. Much like yourself, I believe.” The humanity of either of them is really up for debate. Do humans have fanged teeth and slitted pupils? Four eyes and skin pale enough to look dead? Probably not, but Zacharie has yet to find a better term. “Yes, we’re both human.”

Batter eyes him carefully, but eventually chooses to sigh and relax, as much an indicator that he accepts Zacharie’s presence as Zacharie will get.

Zacharie moves, so he can sit cross-legged in front of Batter. “My friend, tell me about your mission. I wish to know.”

Curiosity and nothing more. The Better speaks tersely, but at length, and Zacharie listens. With as much affection as Zacharie is capable of (not very much), he decides the Batter is a complete lunatic.

Not that he expected anything else.

Zacharie is forced to leave just before the game is reactivated, uncertain of how much time he spent talking to Batter and trying to challenge his beliefs solely to annoy him. A day well spent, in his opinion. Perhaps he’s made a friend.

The Batter’s opinion is less amicable, but Batter will just have to live with that. He cannot easily ignore the merchant, even within the normal course of the game.


	3. jesus christ its 2017 why am i here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dedan is dedead  
> zacharie is a fickle jackass  
> we, as a society, don't need definite articles   
> i accidentally deleted the game file off my computer for im running off a playthrough and vague memories I don't know why I'm bothering except I suddenly got blindsided with Zach's muse.

ZONE ONE, PENTEL - ALMA

 

As soon as the game’s focus has moved from the mines, Zacharie does too. The open air is a relief. Even the zone’s constant drizzle is better than the faintly smoky underground. The post office, too, is better. It smells like paper, a sort of library-ish scent Zacharie likes. This place requires a bit more moving about and keeping attention to what’s going on around him. No procrastinating and talking to elsen this time, not until the Player is ready to leave the building and muck about elsewhere. His normal store is in the basement, but he’s allowed some freedom, if the Puppeteer chooses to be curious. (That is what he must pay attention to; when he has to hop through the Nothingness to the secret room.)

Zacharie has discovered that his dim awareness of the Purifier hasn’t dulled since the game began. If anything, it’s gotten sharper. All he has to do is offer it a vague thought and he knows somehow where the Batter is. He supposes it’s simply his affinity for the code assisting him-- a merchant who can appear anywhere he’s needed has to know  _ where _ and when he’s needed, after all. It’s simply strange. He wonders if it will get stronger-- it seems that would be inconvenient, actually. Zacharie really doesn’t care that much to have Batter’s presence be a constant nagging thing in his head.

He waits and thinks about which strings to pull and sells things when the opportunity arises. One of the elsen even buys some spare pens. A decent day-- Batter, while seemingly good for little else, is absolutely  _ fantastic _ for business.

That can be rewarded. Zacharie doesn’t mind following the script.

When the correct button on the elevator is pushed, Zacharie hooks a finger around a certain spot in the game’s coding and sidles through. It’s dark in this portion of the Nothingness, no overworld map to guide him, but he’s not going in between Zones. Just a short jaunt, and he’s done this so many times that he knows how to get anywhere he’d like.

Zacharie steps back out of the Nothingness and arrives in a tiny purple cupboard. The elevator dings and the doors slide open to reveal the guided Batter.

“Looks like you’ve found this building’s secret room,” he says, hands held folded in front of him. He peeks up to where he knows the Puppeteer sees them, hoping that he can transfer enough of a ‘good job’ from a hidden expression. A nod back to the Batter. “See? I’m always ahead of you. Isn’t that strange? Here. Take this item and go do something more interesting.” Zacharie holds his hand out, dropping a glimmering glass orb into the Batter’s hand. A Zodiac symbol hovers just under the surface, that of the Taurus.

“Why?” Batter asks.

Zacharie grins at him. “I wouldn’t want you to be  _ completely _ out of your depth, now would I, mi amigo?”

“And it’s free?”

Astute question. Only met him a few times and Batter already knows. This seems a little more like the Puppeteer’s curiosity-- though she wasn’t given a dialogue, sometimes things filter down. Sometimes Batter’s strings are tugged. “For now. Call it a advance. Your chance to repay me for a while. As I said, I would like you to do something interesting. That will help you stay alive long enough to do so. Don’t let me down, mon cher.”

Batter scowls at him. If the man has a sense of humor, Zacharie has yet to find it and even then sincerely doubts it exists. He cackles anyways. The Taurus orb is placed in the Batter’s inventory-- presumably he and the Puppeteer will fiddle with it outside. Zacharie holds up a hand and waves. “Go forth, my sportsy soldier. Entertain the Player, have fun.”

The closing doors of the elevator cuts off his hoarse snickering.

Ah,  _ someone _ has to laugh at his jokes. If it’s Zacharie himself, well, so be it. He doesn’t need to skip to the basement this time. The Puppeteer seems content to direct the Batter about the post office and find it worthy of dismissal. Time to head to Alma-- for the Batter, but first for Zacharie while the Batter is preoccupied with checking on the ground floor elsen. What the Puppeteer seeks to gain from those frazzled unfortunates, Zacharie has no idea.

Zacharie takes the long way to Alma this time, instead of stepping through the nothingness as he generally does if he’s in a hurry. The timing will be fine. The train takes him straight to Alma. Zacharie is exempt from any and all restrictions regarding travel. It’s a nice benefit of being close associates with the people that make the rules. (And, failing that, knowing which strings to pull in the world’s coding to let him hop over roadblocks). 

The monorail’s ride is shuddery, jerking along the tether and the track. Zacharie dislikes it, Zone Three’s are much better. The poor upkeep does, however, make leaving the train so much more of a nicer experience. The merchant stretches on the platform, paying no heed to the constant drizzle that had started around him. Good thing his mask’s made of code rather than paper. Ha, ha.

An elsen spots him when he emerges from the Alma gate. Fortunate that the guardian elsen didn’t bother speaking to him; it was looking rather worn around the edges. This one gasps the usual peculiar elsen inhale. It seems half put together, sunken eyes and stains of smoke around its mouth. It talks nonetheless.

“Zacharie! I heard someone new was here, and he… he said he was purifying the mines. D-did you give up your job for real? Are you sure you… filed the right paperwork to do that? What--” 

Zacharie cuts the elsen off with a firm clap on its shoulder and a bright laugh. “You’ll be fine, my friend.” Really, will they? No, he knows they won’t. He personally finds the end result of purification a little distasteful, but Zacharie will give this elsen the kindness of only partial truth. “Our sportsy friend will no doubt purify your Zone for you with ruthless efficiency. I have left the duty of purification to a more proper protagonist.” Behind Zacharie’s mask, his lips are pulled upwards in a sharp, strained smile.

Proper. That’s what he’ll call it. As much as he doesn’t want to be the Knight and as much as he enjoys the role of Merchant, it does come at quite the price that he’s reminded of every time he’s forced to speak with an elsen who is clearly about to Burn. It’s easier to be the Merchant, more moral to be the Knight. A conundrum he didn’t quite expect, but sadly for the elsen, Zacharie finds that morals tend to take a backseat so far as priorities go.

In the scheme of things, it likely doesn’t matter. It’s only a video game.

He gives the elsen another reassuring pat on the shoulder (which nearly makes its knees buckle) and strides off without further ado. 

Zacharie trots off to stand across from the save block floating in front of Dedan’s office and waits. There’s not a lot of elsen here to make conversation with. There’s not usually any in Alma. Dedan’s started getting more and more irritated with them to the point where both elsen and Guardian decided to keep elsen clear from Dedan’s office for their own safety. The perils of a second-long fuse of temperament and perpetually anxious underlings. Every other elsen here is a Burnt-to-be, so the Zone won’t be  _ too _ boring for the dear player, though future Burnts are not anyone Zacharie wishes to go prod at. Not interesting conversationalists and the soot dirties his hands too much when he’s forced to kill them. (Such a shame they burst into ashes at his voice, too. Such a shame he has to murder them when they Burn even though he is no protagonist.)

It doesn’t take long for the Purifier to decide that Zone ONe is exactly as boring as Zacharie thinks it is, and that progression does go in linear form. The merry party arrives soon enough, Zacharie greeting them with all the jauntiness that the Batter lacks.

When Batter speaks to him, Zacharie gives him the usual cheery demeanour and follows the script set out. Making any effort to change things that the Player can see is against the game’s rules, of course, and his stakes in this game are very minimal. He’ll live regardless. This playthrough is just for watching and obliging whims. 

The Puppeteer isn’t stupid. She chooses healing items, an aura, things any reasonable person would choose to purchase when they know a boss battle is upcoming soon enough. Zacharie makes the sales gleefully, tucking credits into the stash in his backpack. 

The Batter offers no comments to Zacharie. Zacharie is only mildly hurt, in the way where he thinks it would be more fun if he could chat with the traveling lunatic. He waits until Batter is gone before he relaxes, placing his pack of wares on the ground at his feet. 

It will be some time until he’s needed again, by the looks of it. Zacharie hums to himself thoughtfully. He could be proper and simply wait here, but that is what boring pixels would do. Even though he is a video game character, he resents the idea of being  _ boring _ . Hm, hm. What would be fun. He decides, on bored impulse, to bother Dedan. He also decides, on a much less inconsequential impulse, to raise the stakes a little bit. He is supposed to be an impartial merchant, and yet he gave a bonus to the Batter. How about he gives something far less concrete to Dedan! That will be fair, won’t it? Ha, ha.

The merchant takes the short route this time, rather than weave through the endless hallways (fun as the background music is, the halls are a pain). Zacharie opens a hole in the Nothingness, a technique of his own invention, and hops through. Riffling around in the coding to open another hole in Dedan’s office only takes a couple seconds, and then he can step out of thin air into the Guardian’s central room, giving Dedan a jaunty wave hello.

Dedan screeches  _ “FUCK! _ ” at him at the top of his lungs, in a tone that Zacharie assumes is surprised instead of angry. Maybe. It’s hard to tell with Dedan.

“Buenos dias, amigo!” Zacharie replies brightly.

“Zacharie, you festering shit, what are you doing popping up in my office? I know you’re not scheduled to come here for at least a week. I’m not doling out any more credits to your greedy little hands.”

Zacharie’s grin doesn’t falter behind the mask. He seats himself in Dedan’s office, jocular pose as he dangles himself off a chair. “Am I not allowed to come by for a chat, my friend?”

“We’re not friends.”

Harsh, Dedan. If Zacharie cared, he’d be heartbroken. As it is, he just laughs. “I am here nonetheless. Have you met our protagonist?”

“Fuck’s sake, Zacharie, stop talking like we’re in a fairy tale. I can’t make heads or tails of it, and I don’t have the time for your bullshit.” He waves an arm gesturing at the mess covering his desk. Zacharie doesn’t move; he knows better. Either Dedan will have an eternity to do his job or he and his Zone will evaporate into the milky blankness of purity. There’s no rush.

But there’s also, again, no point in telling Dedan that. He’d just get sworn at. “Oh, come now. It can be set off for a few minutes! I am referring to the individual who you have no doubt met that battle-loving sportsman who has trodden so impudently into your Zone.” Zacharie knows for a  _ fact _ that Batter has run into Dedan once, and it’s more likely than not that the elsen have muttered to Dedan as well. Zacharie wouldn’t be waiting for Dedan’s final fight otherwise.

“Oh yeah, that weird little shit. Told him I’d kill him. What, you on his side now?”

“Absolutely not!” Zacharie cackles. “If you manage to kill him, I’d be impressed. To be quite honest, I do hope you succeed.” He doesn't think it will work. But he would like it to, for the sake of simplifying things. It will be fun enough to see how things go with this player and messiah. 

Dedan gives Zacharie a pause, staring at him like he’s trying to see through the leering mask to the thoughts underneath. Zacharie cocks his head at Dedan, grin behind the shield squinty and charming like he’s some coquettish teenager.

Dedan sighs. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever understand a thing Zacharie does. Goddamn crazy idiot.

Zacharie perks up, looking out the window as if he’s suddenly heard or noticed something that Dedan missed. There’s a second where he doesn’t say anything (which is a nice break, Dedan thinks) before he jerks back to facing Dedan and stands up. “Dedan, mi amigo. I have a proposition for you.”

“Nope. Fuck off. Do I look like an idiot?”

“Ah ha ha. It’s a good one! If you manage to kill the trespassing Batter, I will give you your next month’s supply shipment at 75% discount.”

Dedan is instantly suspicious. He leans forward towards Zacharie, arms crossed. “You don’t give  _ shit _ at a discount, the hell is up with you? What’d he do? I’d ask if he stole something from you but I know damn well that I’d already have sent out elsen to clean his guts off the streets if he did.” 

Zacharie snickers. “No, no. Let us call it an experiment, mi amigo. I have faith in you,” now that’s a lie. This is a video game, and as a rule Puppeteers must be determined if they’re to play a puzzle game so Dedan will likely die, even if it does take a few tries,  “so I am merely offering a reward for what you will already want to do.”

This doesn’t make sense to Dedan. He doesn’t like it, and he especially doesn’t like the completely reasonable feeling of suspicion without having the faintest inkling of what he should suspect Zacharie of planning. That little shit is always up to something (and even when he’s not, he acts like he is), but usually Dedan can figure out what he’s up to. Usually because it’s always trying to sell something. But this time… this time Dedan’s got nothing. “I hate you, you dirty rat of a merchant. But fine, whatever. Do your weird shit, but when you try to go back on your bet, I’m not gonna let you.”

“Heh heh. I’d never go back on my word--”

“Bull _ shit _ you wouldn’t.”

“-- so I wish you the best, monsieur Dedan.” Zacharie steps back, clasping his hands together in a complete failure of a thankful pose. “But I have business and must follow the script, so here is where I shall leave you. Good luck, ah ha ha!”

He spins on his heel before Dedan can bite him with an insult and makes his escape through the office’s main door. It’s easier to leave here than to get in, and there’s just enough time for Zacharie to make the journey back to his designated spot. He sidles into space just a second before the Puppet and Puppeteer walk into the main body of Alma. There is the note, however, that Batter has changed somewhat. Maybe it is the effect of his mission, of having to mow down so many Burnts and monsters that skitter around within the meat fountains. The soot of the mines has been replaced with streaks of meat and charcoal remnants of Burnts. Some of Batter’s own blood lies on his clothing too, a dark red staining the white of his uniform. It evaporates as soon as the Batter touches the save block and the Puppeteer’s presence activates its healing function. 

It’s boring. It's good that the Puppeteer is making the most of the environment they've been given to explore, but Zacharie has nothing to do. Zone One is boring. No sane elsen any more (no elsen at  _ all _ , he thinks), and only the currently occupied Dedan left who can hold a conversation (if one calls his yelling of expletives “conversing”). Pablo doesn't like it much here either, so Zacharie is left waiting to see who wins the first battle. 

It's a new game. Maybe Dedan will win, considering the Puppeteer is a novice. 

Zacharie plays idly with an Eye to while away the time, rolling the disembodied organ between his fingers.

Dedan doesn't win. The first battle and he's dead. The ripples of it waver outward from the moment of Dedan’s dissipation. Things blanch in colour, starting at his office and spreading outward rabidly. The nagging awareness of the Batter’s presence in this Zone disappears from Zacharie’s head.

What a shame, Zacharie thought Dedan would at least win the first round. Zacharie stands, tossing the Eye back into his inventory. At least Bismark is next. He likes Bismark.

He doesn’t leave immediately, though. He waits and watches as the whiteness spreads outward and overtakes the entire Zone. The faint music of Alma changes to a haunting, empty tune. It’s fairly ominous, Zacharie notes, golden eyes narrowing. He was right. The purification is not pleasant. The sight of something moving in the far distance makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up-- yes, this isn’t pleasant, and if the feeling he’s getting is right (which it always is), purification is worse than he thought.

Zacharie holds a hand out, tugging his sword from his inventory. With a thought, his Add-Ons all rise around him. There are better things to do, probably, he can head off to Bismark without sticking his nose into things. And yet, here he is. His primary Add-On curls around him, shape mimicking protective wings. “Let’s go check this new adversary, shall we?” Zacharie murmurs to it, laying a hand on it and pushing Chi back to a more natural position. The other two, Zeta and Gamma, have folded themselves around his midsection with Gamma nestled underneath his shirt. A hidden trump card.

Zacharie holds his sword with a practiced readiness as he strides off towards the shambling shapes coming rapidly closer.


End file.
